Postpartum Depression

It hurts.
It is maddening.
It claims my (what's left of) sanity.

Ever since giving birth,
I try not to give in to shaytaan's whispers,
To do deceitful things,
That could harm my marriage,
Or our son.

But I couldn't help it.
It maddens me,
And I couldn't convey it to my own husband,
Keeping it to myself.

There was a time I hated Faez,
I wished he won't come home,
I wished he won't ask anything of me,
Because of my Postpartum depression,
Or whatever I think of it.

I hated my husband,
Thinking he doesn't care,
Either about me or our son,
That he's being laissez faire,
That he is not fully invested in parenthood.

But that was when he was away,
When he is here,
I try to conceal it as much I can,
Because I don't want to stir our marriage.

But I cry,
And I cry.

I was not that weak,
To the extent of hurting our son.
I love him too much to do that.
I gripped through so I won't lose it.
Though lacking sleep,
Through tears and wailing,
I want a happy newborn memory for him,
Not the memory of me doing something sinister to my son,
Just because I was depressed.

I hated my husband,
When he wants me to be at in-laws alone,
Without him,
When I'm better at my own home.

He doesn't go through what I am going through,
He doesn't feel the sinking feeling,
Of your mental deteriorating,
Your physical crumbling,
And you hate every single thing about yourself.

I'm pulling through,
Everything is because of Harraz.
He is the only reason.